Page 82 of Ruthless Bonds

She sighed, relaxing into my lap. “It was the best night, wasn’t it? Should I stab them for you?” She quirked her eyebrow playfully.

After thoroughly ensuring she knew how much I didn’t want to leave her, which entailed kissing her until she was breathless, I let Grig drive her home.

Gavriil pulled up, and we rode to the junkyard. I was more enraged that they’d ruined my night with Alora than that they were trying to kill me.

Stacks of crushed cars and trucks towered over us like mountains as we pulled in. The air smelt like oil, metal, and my favorite—fear. A hydraulic crusher took up a large amount of space in the center of the yard. Tonight wouldn’t be the first time I’d fed the metallic beast my enemies. And it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Gavriil and I stood as Sago and Pyotr dragged the men through the mud toward us, their wrists and ankles bound. I lit a cigarette, blowing the smoke up into the darkness of the night. Piles of cubed cars and metal surrounded us. They could scream all they wanted. Nobody would hear them out here.

The older man sneered at me from the ground, his face twisted in anger. They were Russian, but not from any Bratva that I was aware of. No distinguishable tattoos or brands anywhere on their body.

“You see that?” I nodded toward the cube that used to be a car. “Such a fascinating machine. It takes something large and complicated and crushes it into a smaller version of itself.” I took a step forward, glaring down at him. “Essentially what I’m going to do withyou.”

The younger man cried out through the gag in his mouth. Pyotr kicked him in the back so he landed in a heap in the mud. I could already tell he would be the one to give me the answers I needed. Just like a coward with no honor.

I turned back to the older man, his suit now caked with dirt. “We can do this quickly, or we can do it slowly. The machine doesn’t care either way. It’s quite patient. Tell me who you work for, and I’ll make it quick. Lie to me”—I gestured to a half-crushed car—“and we’ll see how many times I can put you through the machine before I get bored.”

Sago ripped his gag out so he could speak. “You don’t scare me,” the man spat, saliva building up in the corners of mouth. “You’re weak, just like your father. You’ll never be a real Pakhan.”

I tilted my head to the side, studying his face. Something about him was familiar. A blurry image was becoming clearer in my mind. I snapped my fingers, nodding at Gavriil.

“Moscow, 2005. The cargo ships.”

Gavriil narrowed his eyes at the man, recognition crossing his face. “Ah yes, I remember now. The one who urinated all over himself. Tomas something.” He glanced down at the man’s pants, smirking. “I can see you have a better hold on your bladder now.”

Tomas’ face flushed with anger, and he jerked in his restraints. He was one of the Cruel’s men. All I needed to know now was where he was hiding.

“You’ve been hiding out with the Cruel this entire time?” I made a tisking sound with my tongue. “You should have stayed hidden, Tomas. Scum like you are always too easy to take out.”

“As easy as your wife, Alora?” he sneered. “Pretty thing. I got a good look up her dress when she got into the car. Nice ripe ass, perfect for fucking.”

His head whipped to the side as Gavriil punched him. My body trembled with barely controlled anger at Alora’s name on his foul lips. It was like a thunderous roar inside my chest that demanded I slaughter him immediately. I held out my hand, palm up. “Knife,” I said.

Pyotr handed me a blade. “You looked up my wife’s dress?” I stepped forward until I was an inch away from Tomas. His face paled as he looked into my eyes. Without waiting for him to answer, I flicked the blade open. “Hold him.”

Sago and Pyotr held the man still as I placed the tip of the knife at the center of his eye. “This won’t kill you, Tomas. It’ll just ensure you can’t see how many pieces the crusher turns you into.”

He screamed as I plunged the knife into his socket and twisted. He thrashed around, causing me to cut into the skin around his eye. Blood splattered across my hands as Pyotr forced his gag back into his mouth. Good, the sounds he was making were grating on my nerves. When I moved to the second eye, I took my time, ensuring I didn’t go too deep. He would die, but not quickly.

Sago dragged Tomas toward the crusher, his muffled sobs echoing around us. I turned toward the other man, narrowing my eyes. The second Gavriil removed his gag, he began whimpering.

“Listen…” I waved my hand, and he sobbed his name. “Listen, Adrian, my bride is at home waiting for me, and now I’ll have to explain why I’m covered in Tomas’ blood. So let’s be quick. You work for the Cruel, yes?”

“Yes.” He nodded frantically. “He’s come out of hiding, him and some others. He said New York was his.”

“That’s good, Adrian. What else?”

“He’s got a cop doing all his dirty work. And some woman. I don’t know their names, but we met them at Hotel Argyle tonight. That’s how we knew you were at the Met. The woman… she’s been put in charge of…” His voice trailed off, and he looked everywhere but my face.

“C’mon now, Adrian, you were doing so well. In charge of what?”

He cleared his throat. “Of bringing your wife to him. Says a Pakhan’s bride will make him a fortune on the market.”

The world went entirely red as those words left his lips. My fists pounded into his face. For once, I couldn’t control the rage that had built up inside of me. Gavriil pulled me off him when there was nothing left of his face except wet, meaty pieces. So much for the quick death I had planned.

I let my men drag his body to the crusher as I washed my hands. For the first time in my life, I’d felt something I never thought I was capable of.

Fear.

---